


Oh No She's Hot

by EtchCantrellorLightningHeterodyne



Series: Plot Ex Machina: Mijung and Kraagor edition. [1]
Category: The Order of the Stick
Genre: And kind of really chaotic but in an 'I can work with/around/within the law' sort of way, Canon What Canon, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone is happy and nobody hurts because I said so, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Girard loves her, I Don't Even Know, I have no way to justify this, I pretty much deus ex machina'd Mijung's not-a-death-because-fanfic, It's an excuse to write Soon getting both happy endings, Mijung is amazing, Other, Polyamory, Why Did I Write This?, all the way, yeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 11:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtchCantrellorLightningHeterodyne/pseuds/EtchCantrellorLightningHeterodyne
Summary: Order of the Scribble quest happens but Serini doesn’t make them swear an oath because instead of nearly killing each other they all discover that Mijung was a very smart cookie (I mean she’s gotta be to have a magic lab, come on) and uncovered one (1) cleric’s research on how to protect oneself from the Snarl (it was actually to protect against getting your soul imprisoned but whatevs). She cast the spell on herself just because- I mean every little bit helps right- but basically what it did was it sent your soul to the afterlife the literal second you received a wound it would be impossible to recover from. Granted you didn’t get to say anything with your dying breath because your soul got punted out of your body too fast, but it meant that a) she wasn’t destroyed by the Snarl (still got incredibly lucky with that, though) b) she haunted the Order, silently and invisibly, and cast the spell on everyone in it because again, smart cookie, and c) she got to make both of these things known in a way that was absolutely perfect for a wizard who liked to poke metaphorical bears with only sometimes metaphorical sticks.





	Oh No She's Hot

Lirian glanced between her fiance, her basically brother, and her second partner in crime behind Serini as the three of them fought for… actually pretty justified reasons, but there were still better ways to go about it.

“Okay, I feel terrible and I’ve got no fucking clue what to do in this situation so if you restrain Dory and I get Girard, Soon probably won’t stab them and we can stop this from escalating.”

The druid glanced at the rogue standing next to her, and then back at her viciously arguing party members.

“I mean that seems- GUHK!”

Serini jumped so high she literally hit the ceiling when Lirian jerked, lurched forward, and righted herself like she wasn’t sure how limbs worked.

“Okay. Great. Shit. Heartbeats are  _ loud _ , Twelve Gods, I can barely hear myself  _ think _ .”

The druid was quietly muttering to herself in a voice that  _ was not hers _ , and Serini clung to the remains of a decrepit torchholder like it would save her from whatever the hell had possessed the only other currently sane member of the party.

Not-Lirian turned, again, like she didn’t know how limbs work, and stared at the halfling.

“Sorry about this, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just- uh, well, your friend- Kraagor, right? He’s still in existence. Body’s gone, but if I’m possessing who I think I’m possessing, that shouldn’t be  _ too _ much of an issue for you all.”

Serini, still clinging to the rusty wall ornament and shaking so hard it was rattling against the ancient nails holding it in place, didn’t say anything, too busy staring, with eyes that now covered half her face, at Not-Lirian’s black eyes.

Not totally, though. It wasn’t like when the druid did something badass with spells and her eyes glowed, consumed by the pale green light of her magic. It looked… well, really it just looked like she’d gotten Girard to cast a spell and change her eye color from green to black.

It was kind of unsettling, staring at something that should have been the color of a misty forest and encountering something the color of the blackest forgotten void holding the greatest long-lost secrets, but it wasn’t as unsettling as it could have been, and she wasn’t being possessed by a demon.

Which, when Serini thought about it, didn’t really mean shit for how fucked the party was, but it meant that Soon would ask questions before stabbing, so there was that.

Not-Lirian blinked slowly, like she was still trying to figure out how having a body worked. Serini stopped rattling the rusty torch holder she was hanging onto and instead turned to the (now shouting) boys.

“G-guys? Guys? Shut the fuck up, now.”

Serini’s voice was shaking, and quiet, because she was terrified, but the halfling watched as the three of them failed to hear her, and decided to shove her fear, ignore the void-secret-mystery black eyes staring at her, and act like Dorukan had been cursed with insomnia and she had taken it upon herself to keep everyone awake with him because the wizard was lonely and miserable, and Serini would not tolerate her friends being either of those things.

She was still shaking, though.

Inhale.

“LIRIAN’S FUCKING POSSESSED AND I NEED YOU TO HELP ME MAKE SURE WE’RE NOT ALL GONNA DIE!”

_ That _ got their attention.

Soon immediately drew his sword. Girard jolted, turned, and, to his credit, tried  _ very hard _ to keep a straight face when he saw Serini clinging to the wall like a scared gecko. Dorukan whirled, raised his hands, cast a spell, and was promptly knocked flat on his ass by Not-Lirian’s counterspell.

_ That _ only worked if you were either very, very high level, very, very powerful, or very, very good at breaking the laws of magic.

“Hi, honey,” Not-Lirian said dryly, while staring directly at Soon, and for the first time in her life, Serini witnessed Soon dropping his katana in absolute slack-jawed shock.

“ _ MIJUNG!? _ ”

“What the  _ fuck _ !?”

“Hey, you never told me your wife was a caster! Dammit, I could’ve checked to see if you’d kept any of her notes…”

“Oh, gods, I caught hypothermia sitting in front of Kraagor’s statue after Lirian cast that stone shapey spell to make it and this is the frostbite reaching my brain. I’m gonna fucking die. We’re all gonna die. Oh gods.”

Girard, who kept turning from Soon to  _ actual fucking Mijung _ and back, was the first to come to his senses. Soon, standing next to him, was absolutely still as every rule he’d thought he’d established about the world came crashing down around him in a flaming pile of all-consuming existential crisis, Dorukan was- as usual- talking about magic, and Serini was still clinging to a wall ornament like the floor was lava and she was a third level baby with no potions of fire protection.

“Okay. Great. You know what? I don’t even… like, this is great and a wonderful reassurance, but seriously, the fuck. And can you stop possessing my bandaids box.”  
_Mijung_ \- _actual fucking Mijung_ , Serini still wasn’t over that- laughed, void-dark eyes sparkling with previously hidden stars.

“Sorry. I need her to Rez both me and Kraagor- I’ll explain later- and I didn’t have any other way to let you all know I exist. Trust me, I tried.”

“Aight then. I’ll get some diamonds, nature hippie’s still gotta get components before she can Rez you two. Actually, what the hell, I’ll just go shopping. Dory, Ser, you guys need anything?”

Serini shook her head, still staring in dinner-plate-eyed shock at Mijung, and Dorukan listed a couple cheap spell components.

The illusionist nodded, turning back to Mijung-Lirian.

“Okay. You might wanna sit and have a chat with Lirian. Dory, you need sage and raven feathers, and I think you’re out of potions, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Kay. Dorukan, sage, raven feathers, couple healing potions. Serini, nothing, Lirian, a couple dozen engagement rings, Kraagor, also nothing, I need torches and a new cloak, and Soon needs vodka. Be right back.”

With that, Girard pulled up a chair for Mijung-Lirian- who started muttering sort of to herself, in both Mijung and Lirian’s voice, and the conversation sounded a little tense but mostly friendly, so Girard chose not to worry. Serini very slowly let go of her wall ornament, sliding down to the floor and hesitantly approaching Mijung-Lirian. Dorukan did the same, and a four-way, three-person conversation quickly started up about magic and how Mijung survived and how pissed Kraagor was.

Girard then looked at his boyfriend, and it occurred to him that Soon a) had his wife back and b) would probably end things with Girard as a result.

The illusionist sighed, shoved the feelings down, and smiled at his (still catatonic, still unmoving) love.

When he came back, Lirian was no longer possessed.

Instead, two spectral forms floated next to her, one of them Kraagor, one of them a slim, ebony-eyed woman in a white kimono. Her pitch black hair framed her face, neatly cut to about an inch below her chin.

She was also, and Girard was a little blushy upon realizing this,  _ incredibly _ hot,  _ especially _ for a caster. Her slanted black eyes sparkled with something absolutely  _ puckish _ , and the very slight curl of one corner of her mouth made you automatically assume she was up to something. That, combined with an elegant figure that radiated both regality, queenliness, and power, a jawline sharp enough to slit Girard’s throat, and the way she posed herself like she was waiting for someone to  _ dare _ to act out of fashion towards her or anyone she happened to like, made her look like she could kill people for a living if she wanted to and if she did, you’d never know anyway.

Her skin was smoother than the near-silent sound of Serini firing an arrow perfectly, and her hair looked finer than the edge of her husband’s sword.

At  _ that _ point, Soon could ditch Girard for her, and the illusionist would just high five him in awe of how the  _ fuck _ Soon managed to get Mijung to fall for him.

Speaking of Soon, the paladin had finally moved, and was now sitting against a wall, though he was still staring at nothing like he was trying to mentally file taxes. 

Girard dropped Dorukan’s and Lirian’s bags next to them, and walked over to sit by Soon, pulling out a bottle of vodka that, when Girard had asked the vendor for something a man in his late twenties could use to drink himself into a coma, had been handed to him with an ‘I’ve literally seen a dragon pass out after seven bottles’.

The illusionist pulled off the stopper, and took a shot.

It was absolutely disgusting. He passed it to Soon. The paladin took it with half-numb fingers, drinking something that was less like one shot and more like eight.

“Okay,” he said, in a very small voice, “I think that’ll get me through the next ten minutes.”

“Are you… okay?” Girard asked hesitantly.

“No.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes- no- I…”

Soon paused, blinking at the spot where Lirian was now resurrecting Kraagor. Mijung floated, incorporeal and gorgeous, next to them.

“I am. But… I…”

“I get it, by the way, if you’re now breaking us off, because hot fucking damn you never told me your wife could give every succubi a run for their money while simultaneously running the world.”

“...what.”

“I mean, she’s gorgeous, and she’s regal but like… she’s still welcoming? Hey, come talk to me, if anybody fucks with you I’ll kill them with a thought. She just… she  _ radiates _ power. Strength. I get… I get it. I really do get it, if I can’t compete with that.”

“You know, this would be so much easier if you couldn’t.”

At  _ that _ , Girard turned to Soon, a silent question written on his face.

“I just… for starters, she’s not  _ actually  _ capable of running the world, nobody is, and she’s spent most of her life cracking under the pressure of the people who want her to, and it’s… it’s not great. People saw her, and expected her to be amazing, and she is- by all the gods, she is- but she’s still  _ human _ . And I’ve always hated people who expected her not to be.”

Soon went silent, and Girard didn’t start prying, which meant that the illusionist was content to let the paladin take his time.

He half-smiled without a trace of mirth, thinking of all the many late nights they’d had together, Mijung curled into his chest and sobbing because her family expected her to be perfect, and her boss expected her work to be perfect, and it was  _ crushing _ .

The weight of everyone’s expectations was crushing, and Soon had taken a very long time to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t carry it for her.

But he could carry her- quite easily, with or without the sheer amount of fabric in a wedding dress- and so he did.

And when they’d gone out for that gods forsaken picnic, Soon had suggested it so she could get away. So they  _ both _ could- get away from everyone and everything expecting them to be something more than human. And Mijung had agreed, because the weight of the expectations of everyone sat heavy on her shoulders, but she’d known (always. It was one of the first of Soon’s not-quite-walls that she’d climbed) that the expectations of the gods (not the people, not nearly close to half as much the expectations of the people that Mijung bore) sat just as heavy on his.

Yet here he sat, realizing that the Snarl may have cost him much but it had cost him far less than he’d thought, and that he had cost himself far more than anyone else ever could.

“Okay. Times up. Stop brooding and talk to me.”

And there was Girard, who took a sword to the expectations weighing Soon down and a spell to whatever was left of them once the illusionist was finished.

“I love you both so much and so equally and for so many different reasons that if I have to choose I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“...is this the part where I explain polyamory to you or do you already know what that is.”

“Wha- I mean I  _ know _ what it is, of course, but those relationships are much harder to maintain-”

“Yeah, but unless you want to get stuck choosing, I think it’s probably your best option. We’re all rational, consenting adults. Who have done much harder things than fall in love.”

“...fair enough.”

“Besides, this way you can sleep sandwiched between the two of us, so we’ll both be right there making sure you’re getting reasonable amounts of sleep!”

Both of the boys jumped ten feet at the sound of Mijung’s cheery voice, and the woman simply grinned somewhat evilly, and sat down next to Soon.

Her smile faded, and Girard glanced between the two.

“You know, I really am glad to be back,” she murmured. Soon turned his head to stare at Lirian and Dorukan and Kraagor, and Girard knew it was just so he could avoid looking at either of them.

Mijung did too. The both of them let him be.

“I’m… a little overwhelmed to have you back,” Soon whispered after a time. Girard, without even thinking about it, started rubbing circles into Soon’s back.

Mijung gave a little sigh, turning to face the two.

“Well. Your party is wonderful, though given that you’re Soon ‘I will do the noble suffering thing even if it will literally kill me’ Kim, I’m guessing they’re also all absolutely infuriating in different ways.”

“Oh yeah,” Girard replied. “Even the ones he’s dating piss him off.”

Mijung grinned at him, wide and dazzling and downright puckish, and Girard decided that he liked her. A lot.

“I’m going to regret this later but do you two want to work out the details of how, exactly, this is supposed to work? Since I’d like to focus on something I can organize and deal with that’s not how I’ll file the hospital bill for my alcohol poisoning.”

Mijung took the bottle from him, took a sip, and then handed it off to Kraagor as the dwarf walked over.

“Not sure if I’m interrupting, but I’m telling you all that there’s no bad blood between us. You almost killed each other fighting about me once. Don’t do it again.”

Soon nods, and Girard does too, and Kraagor wanders off.

Girard and Mijung look at each other, and then both press simultaneous kisses to Soon’s cheeks from where they’re sitting on either side of him.

“I’m dating both of you,” Mijung murmurs. “That’s my contribution to planning this.”

Soon knows she’s not being entirely truthful, that the three of them will sit down and talk about this more at length at a later date, but he also knows that all of them have gone through a lot and deserve a break.

“Same here,” Girard replies.

Soon smiles, lifting his head. The weight of expectations, he was sure, would never be added to by the loves of his life.

“We’re talking about this later. But I love you both. A lot.”  
Girard wraps an arm around his waist, and Mijung puts an arm around his shoulders, and Soon gets the sneaking feeling that things will be alright. And also realizes that he _really_ wants to fall asleep.

“Also I wanna know how you survived,” Girard says after five minutes of unbroken silence.

“Niche spell. It’s actually to protect against soulbinding, but I guess luck loved me enough that day to let it work for the Snarl as well. Beyond that… I’ve really got no idea. I did cast it on all of you, though, I’m guessing it’s why Kraagor’s here. Mijung, by the way.”

“Yeah, Soon’s told us virtually nothing about you besides your name. Granted, grief and emotional duress and how fucked up everything was contributed to that. So. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not.”

“His name is Girard Draketooth, since I’m fairly sure he planned on ‘I trust you with nothing not even my name’.”

Both of them give half-hearted jumps at the sound of Soon’s exceptionally sleepy voice. He’s managed to tug both of them closer, to the point where they’re basically the only things holding him up.

The paladin isn’t so much leaning on either of them as they are pressing against him. Girard and Mijung give vastly differing smiles at the sight of the almost completely out of it paladin. Girard’s is soft and small and secret, and Mijung’s is wide and bright and loving.

The illusionist gets ready to spend the rest of his life with these two. 

He gets the feeling that they’ll fit very well together.


End file.
